


Bait and Switch

by coolbyrne



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F, Rizzoli & Isles |, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3461294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Would you believe me if I told you Jane and Maura switch bodies? Crackfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bait and Switch

TITLE: Bait and Switch

AUTHOR: coolbyrne

RATING: T (for a suggestive scene or two)

SUMMARY: Would you believe me if I told you Jane and Maura switch bodies? Crackfic.

A/N: I normally don’t go full-on crazy, but this fic came so easily to me and my wonderful beta reader, happycamper5, that it practically wrote itself. Any fuzzy timeline issues or out-of-canon errors are probably on purpose because of the nature of the story. And if I could get one story pushed as an episode, it would be this one.

The darkness that covered the room had nothing on the down-filled blanket that embraced the curled form of Jane Rizzoli. She could never figure out why everything was the perfect level of comfort 10 minutes before she had to wake up. Contemplating this mystery, along with what the Red Sox had to do to break their slump, Jane stretched full out on her double–bed? With her hands stretched out to her sides, her fingers still didn’t reach the edge of the mattress. Her eyes shot open, but the dark room revealed nothing. Taking a deep breath, she smiled. Maura. Everything else fell into place- the thickness of the blanket, the decadent, zillion-count sheets, and the warm quietness. What was still to be explained was how she got here. Not in the guest room. In Maura’s room. _In Maura’s bed. I had a glass of wine, but I know I went home last night,_ she remembered. _I had that last piece of pizza in the fridge. The memory was clear as day. So how did I get here?_

_And where’s Maura?_

Her bladder agreed that the questions were all well and good, but there were more pressing needs to be met. So with bleary eyes, she swung her feet to the floor, momentarily revelling in the thick carpet under her toes, before shuffling zombie-like to the bathroom. Her hand batted blindly along the wall until, like a 1000 suns, the light switched on. Squeezing her eyes shut, she held up a hand to shield them.

“Jesus, Maura!” she complained to the absent woman.

Something caught in her throat, and she coughed sharply. Rubbing her face, she bravely attempted to open her eyes. Her mouth stopped mid-yawn when she saw her reflection. _I knew I shouldn’t have let her give me that wine_ , she thought. Balled fists rubbed her eyes and she tried again.

The result was the same.

Staring back at her weren’t her own brown eyes, but panicked hazel ones. The sleep-tousled hair wasn’t her usual dark tangle, but soft, blonde waves.

“Maura?” Jane said out loud, and watched the reflection mouth the same word. Reaching up, she touched her face and jumped back when she saw the image in the mirror do the same.

“Maura!!”

…..

 _Oh,_ Maura winced as she rolled over in the hard bed. _Time for a new mattress._ She burrowed her head into the pillow and tried to shift into a more comfortable position. It only took her three attempts to realize it was all for naught and only one attempt after that to realize she wasn’t in her own bed. Jane. Abruptly sitting up, she glanced around the room. The only light available came from the alarm clock on the bedside table.

6:50 AM.

Sighing, she refrained from falling back onto the pillow. Instead, she wondered about her surroundings. _How did I get here?_ she frowned. _I saw Jane leave and then I went to bed. I set out my blue dress in preparation for work today._ She surprised herself with a burp, and quickly covered her mouth. _Why does that taste like pepperoni pizza?_ With a hand to her stomach, she stood up, absently noting how low to the floor the bed seemed. There were no other lights or sounds in the small apartment, but Maura called out anyway.

“Jane?” Her hand moved from her stomach to her throat, and she forced out a hard cough. _What in the world did we drink last night?_ she wondered. Lightly padding her way to the bathroom, she passed a dozing Jo Friday, who abruptly sat up and started barking.

“Shhhh,” she said, the sound passing through a rough throat. Though she held out her hand in a gesture of goodwill, the dog only stopped when Maura slowly backed into the bathroom. _What in the world?_ Her answer was staring at her from the small medicine cabinet mirror. Wild strands of brunette curls sprung from her head like a Medusa and curious dark eyes looked back. She reached up to touch the dimple in her chin and smiled in wonderous awe.

“Jane.”

…..

“OhmyGod, ohmyGod, ohmyGod,” she repeated over and over, pacing the bedroom. Her hand clamped over her mouth when she heard her voice. _Not my voice. Maura’s voice._ She slowly brought her hand down and hesitated before speaking again. “I have to find my phone.” The hand went back to her mouth. “OhmyGod,” she mumbled under her palm. Throwing open the drawer of the bedside table, she rummaged for her phone. “Where the hell is it?” Hearing the voice again, she silently commanded, Inside voice from now on. Almost tearing the drawer apart, she realized her mistake – she should be looking for Maura’s phone. Sure enough, there it sat, inside the drawer on Maura’s side of the bed. Scrolling for her name, she immediately hit ‘call’.

“Hello?”

Jane almost dropped the phone when she heard her own voice on the other end.

“Hello?” the voice repeated. A moment of silence passed before the voice asked, “Is that you, Jane?”

“Holy fuck, this is creepy,” Jane replied.

“You sound like me.”

“And you sound like me,” Jane admonished. “Stop it.”

“I can’t,” Maura answered. “It appears we’ve somehow adopted each other’s voices.”

Jane looked down at her body. “Yeah, among other things! What the hell is going on, Maura?”

“Jane, you need to calm down.”

Hearing her own voice telling her to relax only served to make her more hysterical. “Calm down?! I need to calm down? You need to fix this!”

“If I knew how to fix it, I would,” she replied, slowly and softly. “But I’m going to need time to figure out what’s happened. Scientifically, this is impossible. It must have been something we drank last night. Perhaps it was something we ate-”

“No,” Jane said as she stalked around the bedroom. “I know exactly what this is – it’s like that movie. We switched bodies somehow. We need to get ourselves back in our own bodies.”

Rather than enable the detective’s hysteria, Maura said, “What we need to do is get to work and talk this through. Who knows? Maybe the hallucinogens will have worn off by then.”

“I’m not going into work like this!”

With a deep breath, Maura quietly instructed, “Jane. I’ve set out a blue dress on the cedar chest at the foot of my bed. Meet me at _La Bakeria_ and we’ll sort this out.”

The brunette drew in a long breath through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. She held the phone in the crook of her neck and shoulder and shook out her hands. “Okay,” she said, “I got this. I can do this.”

“You can do this,” Maura assured. “I’ll see you in about an hour, okay?” When there was no immediate response, Maura repeated, “Okay?”

Jane took another slow breath. “Okay.”

…..

The blue dress was exactly where Maura had said, and Jane lifted it up with disdain. “I am not going to fit in that,” she said, then quickly pressed her lips together. _Stop speaking out loud,_ she chastized herself. It was when she held the dress against her body that she realized her error. It wasn’t her body. It was Maura’s.

_Maura’s body._

Dropping the dress onto the bed, Jane stood, frozen and uncertain. _My brain but Maura’s body_ , she thought, boiling down the problem to its very essence. A full-length mirror in the corner of the room caught her eye, and she turned to look at the image reflecting back at her.

_Maura’s image._

The night gown was silk and blue, the hem ending invitingly at mid thigh. Jane tentatively reached for it, quickly looking over both shoulders, as if someone might jump out at any moment and yell, “Surprise! You pervert!” The room yawned at her silently, and her eyes dropped to the hem once more. Capturing it between her thumb and index finger, she slowly drew the material upward, her thumb skimming along the soft skin of her abdomen until the silk bunched under the curve of soft breasts and Jane stopped breathing.

_Maura’s breasts._

With another quick glance over her shoulder, Jane grabbed the hem with both hands and lifted the cloth over her head, dropping it gracelessly to the floor. “Oh my God,” she said, so transfixed by the display that she didn’t even notice she’d spoken aloud. There they were, like images from a dream, revealed in reality. The source of relief for more than one lonely night shared between the detective and her left hand. She squirmed at the thought, causing a slight sway that made her groan. Lightly, hesitantly, she trailed her finger tips up the rib cage,  along the scar left behind from her kidney donation. The sensation made her twitch. Is it because I’m ticklish or because she is? At last, both hands reached their destination, and with shaky anticipation, she cupped both breasts in her scarred palms.

“Oh my fucking God,” she amended at the sensation. It was the sound of Maura’s voice cursing that snapped Jane out of the moment. She caught her gaze in the reflection and squeezed her eyes shut. Her hands dropped and she felt the flush rise to her cheeks. _Not MY eyes. Not MY hands. Not MY cheeks,_ she reminded herself harshly. Despite whatever crazy events got them there, it wasn’t right to take advantage of the situation. No matter how great the temptation. She looked in the mirror again. And boy, the temptation was great. She decided then and there to avoid mirrors of any kind for the rest of the day.

…..

“Jane Rizzoli, Boston Homicide.” Maura wagged the badge in the mirror. She tried it with the shield around her neck. “Detective Rizzoli, Homicide.” She decided that was the perfect phrasing coupled with the right amount of lackidasical badge waving, but she tried it one more time, just to be sure.

“Detective Rizzoli, Homicide.” She touched her throat and still marvelled at the husky tone. Glancing at her reflection, she wondered how to contain all that hair and decided to try something simpler first. With a long stride into the bedroom, wonderfully longer than she was accustomed to, she went to the closet and slid the door open. She’d seen the contents before, and was amazed, though not entirely, to see it hadn’t changed. Four shades of monochrome. Eight button-down shirts. One pair of boots. Maura sighed as she grabbed the first suit within reach. She paired it with a white shirt and searched around for the inevitable stack of tank tops. It only took two drawers before she found the motherlode. Shaking her head, Maura chose a white one and added it to the pile of clothes on the bed.

She undressed with a clinical detachment, forcing herself not to scrutinize the moment too much, though she did pause to touch the scar along her rib cage, a painful reminder of a self-inflicted gun shot. Without looking down at her nakedness, she opened another drawer and removed a pair of boy shorts and a non-matching bra. With a grimace at the fashion faux pas, Maura slipped on the bottoms and stopped abruptly, surprised at how good the cotton felt against her skin. Closing her eyes, she put on the bra while mentally reciting the periodic table. _It’s not Jane’s body,_ she tried to convince herself. _Just pretend it’s not Jane’s body._

But this delusion only lasted until she pulled the tank top over her head and inadvertently looked down. White cotton clung to her abs like a second skin, leading down to black shorts and long lean legs. She wiggled her toes and laughed. Walking into the bathroom, she stood in front of the mirror and unabashedly flexed her arms. “Jane Rizzoli,” she said out loud, loving the sensation, “you are a fine specimen of the female form.”

…..

La Bakeria was slowly waking up when the two women arrived. Most of the bakery’s regulars were still in bed, so it was easy to spot Maura when she arrived.

Spot myself, Jane corrected. It was only when Maura stood in front of the table that Jane saw what the woman had done. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “What did you… where did… the suit!”

Maura pulled Jane’s arm. “Buy me coffee. I couldn’t find your wallet.”

Jane obligingly stood, but repeated her question when they got in line. “Where did you get that suit? It’s 8:00 in the morning, Maura!”

She shrugged, and Jane tried not to think of how weird it was to be looking at herself. “I called some people I know. Or rather, who you know,” she smiled at the identity confusion. “I told Carlos at La Dolce Vita I was a friend of yours and that I was in desperate need of help. Which, based on the contents of your closet, I clearly was. He said any friend of Maura Isles is a friend of his, so I got this and put it on my tab. He was lovely.”

“Lovely?” Jane hissed. “You can’t show up to work in that!” She closed her eyes and took a breath. “I can’t show up to work in that!”

“Well, I can’t show up to work in a polyester blend!” Maura replied.

“The guys are going to take one look at that think I’m on the take.”

She glanced down at the two-button, gray wool-rayon suit. “I got it off the rack, Jane!”

“Yeah, the Month’s Wages rack.”

The line quickly moved and they were at the counter. “It was only $400.” This didn’t seem to appease the detective, so she added, “I’m still wearing your tank top underneath.”

“Morning, ladies,” the barista greeted. “The usual for you both?”

Jane nodded. “And a triple chocolate brownie.”

Maura’s eyes widened. “No!” She looked at Jane and warned under her breath, “Do not put that in my body.”

“She’s just jealous because I told her she can’t have one,” Jane sweetly told the server, starting to get the hang of this identity problem.

“Well, it seems to be a day for new things,” the young girl noted. “Dr. Isles indulging in chocolate, and Detective Rizzoli, is that a new suit? You look sharp!”

Maura tilted her head and gave a bashful smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t do that,” Jane said.

“Do what?” Maura asked.

She waved her finger in front of Maura’s face. “Whatever it is your doing with your face. _My face._ Stop it.”

“$11.50,” the barista said, and watched with some measure of amusement as the woman she knew as Maura plopped her purse on the counter and rummaged less than gracefully for her wallet.

“Keep the change,” Jane said as she handed her a ten and a five and grabbed the drink that was placed in front of her, precariously balancing the brownie on the lid. She turned and followed Maura to a nearby table. “And whatever you’re doing with my hips. That needs to stop right now.”

Maura threw a look over her shoulder and laughed. “I have to confess, it’s very liberating. I see now why you walk the way you do.”

Jane dropped into a chair and grumbled at the tightness of the dress that forced her to cross her legs at the knee. “What do you mean, ‘walk the way I do’?”

“That swagger you have. A bit cowboyish.” She saw Jane raise her eyes from the brownie. “In a good way,” she quickly added. “The gun and the badge force you to swing your arms out, don’t they? I always thought it was your confidence.”

“I have plenty of confidence, thank you very much.” She let out a soft moan when the chocolate hit her lips. “You have no idea how good this is.”

“I have a feeling my hips are going to object,” Maura pouted.

“Please,” Jane rolled her eyes, “I’ve seen you naked. Your hips are fine.”

The cup stopped halfway to Maura’s lips. “What did you say?”

Jane slowly chewed the brownie in an effort to kill time before finally deciding it didn’t matter. “What? Like you didn’t take a look in the mirror.”

“You don’t have a full-length.”

“Ah-ha! So you _did_ try to look!”

“Only in a clinical sense.”

“Right.” Jane lifted the cup, and simultaneously, both women nearly spat out their drinks. “Oh, god, it’s that awful green foam latté thing you drink.” She immediately pushed it to Maura’s side of the table.

“And this is clearly an Americano with double espresso,” Maura said, wrinkling her nose.

“Come to Mama,” Jane greeted as she wrapped her hands around the cup.

“You’re putting that in me, too?” Maura complained. “Fine.” She took a sip of her drink and made an exaggerated moan of enjoyment.

Shrugging, Jane said, “I can’t taste it.” She saw the look of disapproval on Maura’s face – her face – and shook her head. “Maura! What are we doing? I don’t care about the drink or the brownie or the swagger or the naked. I care about getting out of… of…” she waved vaguely between them, “ _this_.”

“I don’t really know what this is, Jane,” Maura admitted. “We need to get to the lab so I can run some tests. It must be something we ate or drank last night.”

“You really think this is all some giant hallucination?”

“What else could explain it?”

Jane nodded her head and shrugged, conceding the point. “Wait,” she said, “we can’t go to work like this.” Maura tilted her head, a silent invitation to continue. “I can’t go to work and pretend to do your job. And you can’t pretend to do mine.”

“But I’ve been practicing in the mirror,” Maura objected. “Watch.” She removed the badge from her hip and nonchalantly waved it in Jane’s face. “Detective Rizzoli, Homicide.”

Quickly snatching it away, Jane whispered, “Stop that! Can we please focus?”

Disappointed at the lack of praise for her efforts, Maura sighed, “We need to do blood work, Jane. How do you suggest we do that covertly if we don’t sneak into my lab?”

Jane slouched her defeat. “Fine. You’re right. But we’re in, then we’re out.”

“What excuse are we going to use to get out of work?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m calling in sick.”

Maura’s eyes widened. “No! I’ve never called in sick. I can’t lie.”

Slyly, Jane smirked. “I wonder if I can.” She did a stage cough and said, “I love kale!”

The two women waited for a sign of hives. When none came, Maura said, “That might only prove that you do actually like kale.”

“Right,” Jane rolled her eyes. “Okay. The New York Yankees are the bestest team in the whole world!” Again, they waited for a sign. Again, none came. “Great!” Jane said, clapping her hands. “That’s my day set.”

“No,” Maura protested. “I can’t spend the day like this without you.”

“But I thought you’ve been practicing in the mirror,” Jane replied. She saw a pout on her face that she was pretty certain was an anomaly. “Fiiiine,” she breathed out dramatically. “We’ll go to work and I promise to stick around until we figure this out.” She grabbed the purse and dug out the car keys. “Come on. The quicker we get there, the faster we can figure out what the hell’s going on.” She stood and looked down at her dress. “And the less likely anyone will see me in… this.”

Maura gave Jane an appreciative once-over. “I look really good,” she remarked without a hint of vanity. Her gaze fell to Jane’s shoes. “Oh! Those shoes don’t go with that dress!”

“Yeah, well the heels go with these feet,” Jane drolly replied. “Besides, these were the shoes that were left out with it.”

Maura shook her head. “Oh, no. I would never pair this dress with brown shoes.”

Jane looked down. “I did find it ironic you’d find the one pair of low heels in your hoard on the day I’d have to wear them.”

“It’s not a hoard. It’s… a collection.”

“Uh-huh,” Jane replied. “One man’s collection, blah blah blah. Let’s go.”

As the women collected their things, Maura caught the flash of Jane’s car keys. “You are not driving the Mercedes!”

“Hell yeah, I am! There’s gotta be some benefit to this whole thing besides your breasts.”

Maura could only watch, mouth agape, as Jane walked out of the bakery.

…..

“Ow!” Jane complained and rubbed her arm.

Maura labelled the vial of blood and discarded the needle in the safety bin. “I had to do it as quickly as possible, before someone came in and saw Detective Rizzoli drawing blood from _Doctor_ Isles.”

“Okay, what now?”

“You’ll have to take these to the Toxicology Department,” she said, handing the two vials to Jane. “Tell them to do a full screen for hallucinogens, focusing primarily on Lysergic Acid Diethylamide, Propoxyphene, and Psilocybin. Oh!” she exclaimed as the thought occurred to her. “Psilocybin is derived from certain kinds of mushrooms.”

“The pizza,” Jane finished the thought.

“Yes.”

Jane frowned. “But I didn’t have the mushrooms.”

Maura nodded her head enthusiastically. “Yes, you did. You always eat your half faster than I eat mine, then you ‘helpfully’ offer to help me eat mine. You had a piece last night.”

Jane stared off to the side, bringing up the image from her memory. “You’re right, I did! You’re a genius.” She wrapped her arms around Maura but quickly moved back from the embrace. “I just hugged myself. That was weird.”

Glancing at her watch, Maura said, “It’s almost 9. The lab crew will be coming in, so make sure the blood work is their top priority.”

She made a motion for the door, but Jane grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to get up to the bullpen,” Maura answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m Detective Rizzoli, Homi-”

“What did I say about that?” Jane reminded.

“But I sound so good saying it,” Maura lamented.

Ignoring the complaint, Jane asked, “What am I supposed to do while I’m waiting for the lab results?”

“Stay in my office,” she suggested. “I suppose you could pretend to be ill.” She made a face at the thought of deception. “Ride the internet.”

Drolly, Jane corrected, “It’s ‘surf’, Maura. Surf the internet. And if you’re going to make mistakes like that, you might just want to bury your head in that box of cold case files I have under my desk.”

“But I want to do detective work.”

Jane grinned without humour. “And I want to do autopsies! Is that okay with you?”

Her perfectionism wailed in protest and Maura conceded, “I may see your point. But, what if we get called out?”

“Let’s pray that we don’t. Go,” she waved the doctor to the door. “Make sure you stop by the café and say hi to Ma, or she’ll take it personally. I’ll get these vials to the lab.”

“And you’ll let me know right away what you find,” Maura said as the two women left the office.

“We’re in this together,” Jane remarked. Gesturing vaguely between each other, she added, “Literally.”

…..

The silence was so abrupt as she turned the corner into the lab that Jane couldn’t help but stop in her tracks. Three technicians were clearly in the middle of a conversation that halted in mid-sentence the moment Jane appeared.

_The moment Maura appeared._

“Uh, hey, Dr. Isles.” The nametag identified the speaker as ‘Aaron’, and Jane acknowledged him with a tilt of her head.

“How was your weekend?” Jane asked, having no idea if that was something Maura would even say.

“Yeah, uh, it was pretty good,” ‘Samantha’ replied. “Sorry about the hockey game.”

 _What the hell’s she talking about?_ “Sorry?”

“Yeah,” Aaron chimed in. “You know, by the time we got everyone together, it was almost the end of the first period and we figured it would practically be over by the time we got a hold of you.”

“And, this is going to sound funny,” the nervous laugh Samantha gave lacked any humour, “but we realized no one had your phone number.”

It was all becoming clear now. Some half-assed plans were made in Maura’s presence, and promises were made to include her. Promises that no one had any intention of fulfilling. She pressed her lips together, knowing Maura would never say the things Jane wanted to say at that moment. Instead, she said, “That’s too bad. It was a good game.”

‘Gary’ looked at his two co-workers and rolled his eyes. “So you watched it, Dr. Isles? How about that Ochocinco in net?”

Jane quickly caught on to his game. Turning her attention to the third member of the group, she pretended to be confused. “I think you’re mixing up your Chad Johnsons, Gary. Ochocinco plays football, doesn’t he?” Not waiting for the man to reply, she continued, “Besides, Tuuks has the better save percentage, so I’d give him the nod over Chad.” The lab tech had the decency to look embarrassed.

Asshole.

“I need these screened for…,” she struggled to remember the words Maura had told her, and went with the one she knew. “Hallucinogens.”

Aaron took the two vials that were offered. “Which ones, Dr. Isles?”

 _Of course he’d ask me._ With a shrug, she replied, “All of them.” She pointed to Aaron’s hand. “That’s top priority. I don’t want you working on anything else. Text me the minute you get the results.” Before anyone had a chance to trip her up further, she turned and left the lab, but not before giving Gary one last glare.

Asshole.

She knew it wasn’t in Maura’s nature to harbour animosity, but Jane couldn’t help herself. Stalking into the office, she dropped into Maura’s chair and frowned. How many times had promises been made to her, only to have them broken? How many times did she walk into huddled conversations, and have them come to a halt? Or was Maura even aware? Jane wasn’t sure which was worse.

She inhaled deeply, willing her temper to cool. Searching around for Maura’s purse, Jane took out the phone and set it on the desk, swiping a lazy thumb across the screen, more out of habit than checking for messages. She glanced at the home screen and couldn’t help but shake her head. There, staring back, was her own smiling face. Vaguely, she remembered the moment – was it one of their first times at The Dirty Robber? _There will be more of these,_ she vowed then and there. More first times, more smiles. More Maura.

…..

She tried to stop touching her hair. _How does she deal with this on a daily basis?_ Maura wondered to herself in the elevator. _Deep breath. It should only take the lab an hour to screen the blood, assuming Jane told them to make it a priority._ The corner of Maura’s mouth twitched. _Of course she told them._ The smile immediately dropped as she thought of Jane’s vocal nature coming out of her mouth. _How much damage control am I going to have to do once this is all over?_ The doors opening put a stop to those thoughts and she stepped onto the first floor. She spotted Angela a millisecond before the older woman spotted her. _Deep breath. You can do this._

“Good morning, Ang- Hey, Ma,” she stuttered, the colloquialisms stumbling past her lips.

The Rizzoli matriarch didn’t seem to notice the correction. “Hey, sweetie. You want some pancakes? I’ll even promise not to make them into bunny shapes.”

“Oh, but I like the bunny shapes,” Maura replied, forgetting who she was.

Angela furrowed her brow and gave Maura a sidelong look. To Maura’s confusion, she rested the back of her hand against Maura’s forehead. “Just checking to see if you’re sick.”

“There’s no need- I mean, Ma, I’m fine.”

“Well, come sit down and I’ll make you those pancakes.” She directed Maura to a nearby table.

“No, really, I’m fine. Can I just have my usual?”

“Of course, sweetie,” Angela replied. “I’ll be right back.”

In the older woman’s absence, Maura sat back, fighting her natural instinct to press her knees together and fold her hands in her lap. Instead, she shifted her feet apart slightly and let her arm drop over the back of the chair. It was casually badass and she fought the smile that threatened to take over her face.

“Here you go.” Angela glanced over her shoulder at the counter, and found a few minutes to sit with her daughter. “Do you remember Maria Bennossi?” She didn’t wait for a response. “Her nephew Antonio has moved back to Boston. He wants to take you out on Saturday night.”

Maura’s mouth dropped. How would Jane handle this? “Ma!” was her only answer.

“What? You’re not getting any younger, Jane. I bet Maura could tell you the health statistics of women having children after 40.”

“Yes, in fact, I’ve-” Maura stopped and regrouped, remembering who she was at the moment. “I’ve heard all of this before, Ma. I don’t want you to set me up with someone just because you want me to get pregnant before I’m 40.”

“Who said anything about you getting pregnant?” Angela asked, pretending she wasn’t contradicting herself. “I’m just sayin’, he’s a nice boy and he wants to take you out. I told Maria you were free.” She stood and patted Maura’s hand. “He’s a dentist!”

Maura’s mouth opened and closed several times, but words failed her. Fortunately, she was saved by the sudden appearance of a very distressed Tommy Rizzoli. “Jane!” he said. “Oh, hi Ma,” he added.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” his mother asked. “Let me get you some pancakes.”

“Yeah, that’d be great, Ma.” He waited until she disappeared into the kitchen before swinging around to Jane. “Pop called!”

Maura frowned. “And… that’s not a good thing?”

“No, it’s not a good thing!” He pulled back, barely believing the question. “After everything that happened at Maura’s?! Now he wants to get together for dinner with me and TJ! Wants to get to know his grandson, he said. I wanted to tell him he’s lucky he doesn’t need to get to know another son, you know? I mean, what with him and Lydia… and what am I supposed to do about her?? She wants to come to dinner, too! Make it like a real family get-together, she said. Don’t you think that’s gonna be weird, Jane?”

Maura blinked several times, trying to pick out the relevant points of his rambling. “When does he want to have this dinner?”

“I dunno,” Tommy shrugged. “He just called me this morning. Said he wanted to come up from Florida and visit again. Said he was sorry about what happened.”

“So he’s not even in Boston.” Tommy shook his head. “Well, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about now,” she told Jane’s brother. “Why don’t you wait until he actually shows up before worrying about things?”

“But Jane,” he practically whined, “what should I do if he shows up?”

“But he hasn’t,” Maura stressed.

“But what if he does? You gotta talk to him. Tell him this is a bad idea.”

She stood, not having touched the coffee Angela had brought her. “Tommy, if I’ve got to do anything, it’s go to work. We’ll deal with things with Pop if the time comes.”

Her words seemed to alleviate some of his panic. “Thanks, Jane. I knew I could count on you.” The smell of pancakes made him turn his head. “Those look great, Ma!”

“For my baby,” she cooed as she put the plate down in front of him. She kissed the crown of his head before turning to Maura. “Don’t forget about Antonio!”

…..

The elevator was cool, and more importantly, silent. Maura leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. _A quick mediation will help. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Quiet the monkey mind._ After the emotional rollercoaster in the cafe, it was easier said than done. She had just gathered a sense of calm when the elevator door slid open. She barely made it two steps into the hallway when a hand grabbed her elbow.

“I need your help,” Frankie said, bypassing a customary greeting.

“Ow,” Maura quietly protested. “What is it?”

“I got that recertification test on Monday and I need you to go over some of the work sheets with me. I set up some time for you an’ me at the range Saturday night.”

“This weekend?”

Frankie’s eyebrow rose. “Yeah, why?  You gotta hot date or somethin’?” His disbelieving smirk was a punctuation mark to his question.

Maura didn’t know whether to be offended or relieved. “Ang- Ma set me up on a date with Maria Bennossi’s nephew.”

“Antonio?” Jane’s brother asked. “You should be thanking me for saving you from Mr. Snaggletooth.”

“I don’t understand.”

He touched his front teeth. “You know, snaggletooth.”

“But he’s a dentist.”

He laughed. “Apparently not a very good one. Anyway, I’ll pick you up at 6. We’re booked from 7 to 8.”

As quickly as he arrived, he disappeared, leaving Maura standing in the hallway, baffled and dismayed. _How can one person be the fulcrum for everyone around her? And who carries her weight when it becomes too much?_ She entered the bullpen and immediately made her way to Jane’s chair. Never did she think it would be such a comforting sight.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have more than a minute to appreciate it before Korsak called out from across the room, “Don’t get comfy, Jane. We just got a call.”

…..

“What have we got, Doc?”

Jane looked up from her crouched position beside the body. She chose not to comment on the wide-legged, thumbs-hooked-in-her-waistband pose currently being sported by Maura and instead, waved her hand across the crime scene.

“Blood, Sergeant Korsak,” she declared, much to Maura’s horror. “Lots and lots of blood.”

“No!” the doctor exclaimed. Seeing the confused looks of both Frost and Korsak, she amended, “I mean, don’t you want to do some tests first? Take the body back to the morgue and do an autopsy?”

“No,” Jane replied. “I think it’s pretty obvious his carotoid artery was cut, which explains why there’s so much blood. Blood everywhere.”

The only place there may not have been blood was in Maura’s face. She looked aghast at the speculation coming out of her mouth. “I…”

“Detective Frost,” Jane said sweetly, “could you look around, perhaps ask the attending officers if they found a SPT?”

Frost frowned then beamed. “Sharp Pointy Thing. I’m on it, Dr. Isles.”

“I’ll talk to the witnesses,” Korsak chimed in. “See if anyone saw anything.”

When the two men left, Maura spun around and seethed, “How can you say that?”

“Say what?” Jane playfully asked as she stood.

“Blood.”

“Ah, so you _can_ say it,” she replied. “There was a part of me that wondered.” Removing the latex gloves, she asked, “How’s our morning been?”

“Fine.”

“I’m gonna look weird with hives,” Jane said softly. “What’s up? Why am I frowning?”

Maura gently scratched her neck. “Well, I have good news and bad news.”

Jane’s eyes narrowed. “Okay. Give me the bad news first.”

“I was worried you’d say that. I have… well, you have a date on Saturday.

“What??”

“Keep your voice down,” Maura warned. “Your mother cornered me in the café to inform me she’s set you up with Maria Bennossi’s nephew.”

“Snaggletooth?”

“I still don’t know what that means.”

Jane sighed. “So what’s the good news?”

“Frankie booked the shooting range on Saturday so you can help him with his recertification.”

She slouched and dropped her head back. “On a Saturday night?”

“Did you have other plans?”

Jane snorted. “No. But I’d rather hang out with you on a Saturday night than do either of those things.”

“Aww, that’s sweet.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She tempered her words with a smile. “Anyway, speaking of reddish brown substances,” she slyly began, “I gave the vials to your lab techs. I haven’t heard back.”

Maura brushed back the bottom of her blazer and tucked her hand into her pocket. “Shouldn’t take too long.”

“Why are you standing like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like this,” Jane exaggerated the runway model pose. A slow realization crept into her expression. “You’re a badge bunny!”

“What? No!”

Jane tilted her head back and laughed. “That’s why you did the thing this morning. ‘Detective Rizzoli, Homicide’,” she imitated Maura imitating her. “It’s why you’re standing like that – it shows off the badge.” Maura tried to protest, but Jane raised her hands. “Hey, wouldn’t be the first time.”

Maura’s mouth dropped. “Jane, your hands.”

Looking over at Maura, the detective said, “What about them?”

“No, my hands.” She grabbed Jane’s wrists and showed her. “You have scars.”

Jane glanced at her palms. There they were, as clear as day on the alabaster skin – a scar through each hand, front and back. “I don’t get it,” Jane said.

“It’s a dream!” Maura replied excitedly. “The scars aren’t just physical baggage you carry with you; they’re a subconscious burden as well.”

She frowned at this diagnosis, but asked, “I thought we were going with hallucinations?”

Maura shook her head. “A hallucination would have dissipated by now. A dream is the only thing that would explain those scars.” She looked down at Jane’s feet. “And account for those shoes.”

“Hey, I didn’t pick them!” Jane gave the rest of Maura’s comment some thought. “A dream? Really?”

“Hello, ladies,” Detective Crowe suddenly appeared. “You’re both looking lovely today. You in particular, Detective Rizzoli. That suit looks wonderful on you.” He tipped his imaginary hat and wandered away.

“Okay,” Jane conceded, “this _is_ a dream. So what now?”

Maura pursed her lips. “Well, we have to figure out which of us is dreaming. Then we have to do something to startle that person awake.”

Jane smirked. “It’s clearly your dream, Ms. I-always-wanted-to-be-a-badass.”

Maura reluctantly covered the badge with the jacket. “You’ve always wanted to drive my Mercedes. That’s only ever going to happen in your dreams.”

“Ooh! Sarcasm. Now I know it’s a dream.” Ignoring Maura’s glare, Jane said, “The heels don’t match the dress. That’s gotta be some Dr. Isles version of having to do a presentation at work and showing up naked.”

“Or perhaps you secretly want to wear dresses.”

“Or perhaps you secretly want to get into my pants.” The two women froze. “I mean, get into them… to wear them. Because you’re secretly jealous of my pants… that I-”

The kiss was quick and direct with lips pinched between pressed teeth, until Jane pulled back, not to protest, but to give them some room. Their shallow breaths co-mingled as each tried to chart out a better course of action. Jane initiated the new route, a gentle exploration over soft lips and warm skin. A brush, a pass, a tentative dip of one mouth over another until lips parted and tongues met, hesitant, yet quickly growing bolder. Scarred palms slid around a trim waist and strong fingers gripped into soft blonde hair. It was the moan between them that finally pushed them apart.

Jane stepped back, flushed. “What the hell, Maura?”

With a trembling hand on her lips, Maura replied, “I thought it would be the shocking event that would wake us up.”

“The only thing shocking about it is that I ended up kissing myself! Gross.”

“Wait,” Maura said. “So you’ve thought about it?”

“Kissing myself? No.”

She ignored Jane’s attempt at deflection. “The fact it didn’t shock you indicates it wasn’t at all shocking. You’ve thought about kissing me.”

Jane pretended to brush out the wrinkles in her dress, the way she’d seen Maura do many times. “Or, it’s your dream and you weren’t shocked because _you’ve_ thought about kissing _me_.”

The two women contemplated the ramifications of what just happened. At last, Maura nodded and admitted, “That might very well be true.” Glancing at Jane, she added, “I have another confession: I’m carrying Tommy’s baby.”

…..

Both women sat up with a jolt. Jane’s hand went up to her hair, and her eyes went down to her clothing. _Red Sox night shirt._ She lifted the edge of the sheet. _And black underwear._ She turned to the woman on her right.

Maura’s hand was clutching at her blue silk nightgown, thankful for the familiarity of the garment. Her breath was short and shallow. “That worked!” she breathed in relief.

Jane’s brow furrowed. “You mean… how could that happen?”

“Well,” Maura began, more comfortable in the science of things, “there have been studies that suggest something called Mutual Dream Theory. When two people know each other very well, some believe a shared dream state is possible. I haven’t seen any conclusive evidence to support the idea, but-”

“I think we’re conclusive evidence, Maura.”

Her eyes lit up at the thought. “You may be right. I should be writing this down!”

“You shouldn’t be doing anything,” Jane said, remembering things that were best forgotten, or in the very least, pushed to the corner of her mind, only to be brought out during alone time. “Whatever happened – and I can’t even begin to believe half of it – stays between you and me. Never to be spoken of again.”

“But Jane…”

“But Maura…,” she mock-whined.

“Fine,” the blonde relented. “But can I say one thing?”

Jane sighed. “What is it?”

Maura looked down at her lap. “I just want to say that if I ever monopolize your time, or take you away from something you want to do, I hope you’ll tell me.”

Jane pulled her head back and made a face. “Monopolize my time? You’re the last person who would monopolize my time. I want to spend time with you.”

Her smile lit up the room. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Where’s this coming from?”

Maura shook her head and waved away the question. “It’s not important. I just wanted to make sure we were clear on things.”

As the woman moved to get out of the bed, Jane put a hand on her forearm. “I’ve never made a promise to you that I’ve broken, have I?”

“You? No. Why would you ask me that?”

“You’d tell me if I did, right?”

“I can’t imagine a situation where I would ever have to tell you.” Seeing the brunette’s eyeroll, Maura assured her, “I would tell you.”

“Okay, good. Now go, so I can use the bathroom next.” Jane laid out on the bed. “I’m too lazy to use the one down the hall.” She was in the middle of a good stretch when she saw Maura pause in the doorway. “What is it?”

“Those shoes don’t go with that dress.”

Jane’s gaze followed Maura’s to the corner of the room, where Maura had laid out a navy blue dress for the day. And brown low heels. Slowly, their gazes met and Jane held up a finger. “Not a word.”

…. end


End file.
